


Lights In Darkness

by Owlix



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Affection, Coping, Gen, Nightmares, Paranoia, Paranoid Personality Disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Touching, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 18:53:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7813264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owlix/pseuds/Owlix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fort Max and Red Alert both struggle with nightmares on Luna 1. The night is vast and dark, but there are points of light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lights In Darkness

Fort Max woke to the sound of _screaming_.

Not his own. He had hardly ever screamed -- had hardly ever had enough airflow and processing power to make much noise at all, had mostly frozen, still and silent, gasping, much too far gone to scream--

It was _Red_ screaming. Red, somewhere on G-9, somewhere that Max couldn’t help him, couldn’t save him. But that was foolish. Max couldn’t save anyone. He had no power of his own and nothing to barter with, nothing to give. Anything Overlord wanted, he would _take_. _Had_ taken. Any illusion of control was all part of the game he was playing. Max--

Max wasn’t on G-9. Not any more. And Red had _never_ been there. His presence was impossible. This had to be a _dream_.

That broke the spell. Max sat up, struggling to activate his optics, reaching blindly around himself to reassure himself that he was here, now -- _Where? When? In a berth, thermal blanket tangled around his legs. Somewhere warm and dark. He remembered. Messatine. Forcing Overlord out of the airlock. The Legislators. Tyrest. Luna 1._

Max's optics finally activated. It took a moment for his vision to clear. The dream lingered. Max was still terrified, still tight-wound. Red was still screaming.

 _Red_. Fort Max stumbled out of bed. The nightmare clung to him -- his footsteps shook, his vision swam with static when he rose. He stumbled, almost fell. He sat back down again, just for a moment, getting his bearings.

Red kept screaming. He was trying to speak. Max couldn’t understand the words. He rose again, steadier this time.

Red’s door was locked. Of course it was. Max had the override codes; he outranked Red, outranked everyone on this little moon. He didn’t want to use them. Red needed his privacy, needed the security that came with it. But he was still screaming. Max couldn’t leave him in there alone. What if--

“Red?” Max pounded on the door. There was no coherent response. “Red! I’m coming in!”

Max keyed in the code, then carefully pushed the door open.

The room was dark. Red was on his berth, alone. Still screaming, although by now his voice was going hoarse. “Get away,” he said. Not to Max. Not to anyone actually here.

“It’s me, Red.” Max held up his empty hands, although Red couldn’t see them. “It’s me. Max.”

“Get away!” Red scrambled backwards, blindly, arms held defensively over his face. Still asleep. “Get out of my _head_!”

“You’re here, on Luna 1.” Max remained in the doorway, kept his voice low and steady. “You’re here, Red. You’re _safe_. You’re having a dream.”

Red kept yelling. Quieter, though. Less coherent.

“Open your optics, Red. You’ll see. It’s me, Max. You’re here, on Luna 1. You were having a nightmare.”

Red whimpered, voccoder grating static. His optics lit up, narrowed and faint. When he saw Max standing there, he flinched.

“It’s all right, Red.”

Red didn’t seem comforted. His optics flickered around the room, past Max, to the hallway, and he… Oh.

“I’m going to move,” Max said. “I won’t get any closer. I promise. Okay?”

Red watched him silently. Max walked carefully to the far corner of the room -- no longer blocking the only exit. Red’s body relaxed just a fraction. He kept his optics on Max. Max stayed silent. He could hear Red’s systems winding down even from here.

“I was yelling in my sleep,” Red finally said.

“Yeah. You woke me up. I--” Max almost told him about his own nightmare, then bit the words back; no reason to make Red feel guilty. “I’ve never heard you yell like that. I was worried about you.”

Red considered that. He nodded. “What was I saying?”

“It wasn’t easy to understand. You said ‘Get out of my head.'“

Red nodded again. Max couldn’t understand how Red took all of this in stride. How he just _accepted_ it. Max felt like he was still constantly in a state of half-denial, pretending to be _normal_ and consistently failing, but Red just…

“Max.” Red was watching him from his berth, optics gleaming in the dark.

“Yeah?”

“I need you to leave for a while.”

“I--” Max didn’t want to be alone. The realization struck him abruptly -- he was half here for his own self-comfort. To see with his own optics that Red was safe, that Red was here on Luna 1, not on G-9 getting ripped apart by Overlord, here and safe, that Max was here and safe too…

Red was still watching him. “Come back in ten minutes,” he said. “I’ll unlock the door for you.”

“I-- Okay. Okay Red.” Max carefully made his way back to the doorway. He glanced behind him once, then stepped outside. The door closed immediately; Max heard it latch behind him.

He was alone, in the dark empty hall. He’d had dreams like this on G-9. Dreams of somehow escaping. Of forcing the Decepticons to kill him outdoors under the open sky instead of ripping him apart slowly in that closed-in little room.

 _Run_ , some part of him said. _Run,_ **_run_** _._

Max stood there for a moment, fighting the panic in his chest. Then he ran.

 

 

 

 

Max crouched in the dirt, under the stars.

His head was spinning. His engine stuttered. He panted, trying to catch his breath. The dirt felt good on his fingers, a reassuring grit between his joints. He dragged his fingertips through it, leaving marks, then let himself sit back against the wall.

The sky was clear tonight. The stars spread out above him, brilliant and infinite. The cooling hotspot stretched below them, disappearing into the hills, a paler, darker reflection of the stars.

There had been a time when Max had been sure he'd never see stars again. There had been a time when he would have given anything just to die somewhere like this, inhaling fresh air that held no stink of half-processed fuel or fear, looking at a clear sky instead of that awful grey ceiling, that pattern of wear and chipped paint that he’d thoroughly memorized, that he still dreamed about.

Max had run the whole way here. He could barely remember it, the flicker of passages in the dark, the panic in his throat, the feeling that someone must be chasing him.

That feeling hadn’t gone away. Max shifted his weight, pushing his back against the security of the wall behind him. His fuel pump beat hard. He waited, tense, impatient, for something he knew wasn’t coming.

The night was dark and empty. Somewhere in the hills, he heard a rustle of movement. Harmless. Just the mechs that they had rescued, trapped in their alts, unable to speak, prowling in the dark.

Max felt foolish. Perhaps they’d seen him, running panicked from absolutely nothing, collapsing face-first into the dirt. Perhaps they’d heard him gasping and whimpering over nothing but memories. The shame licked at his spark like fire.

But even if they had, they wouldn’t judge.

Max thought of Red. He hadn’t checked his internal chronometer when he’d woken. Had it been ten minutes yet? It must have been, right? He wasn't sure. Better not to disturb him. Besides, Red probably didn’t want Max there at all. Max had no right to depend on Red for his support. He had no right to be that kind of burden on anyone.

“Max?” Red’s voice from inside the building, familiar and safe, but it still made Max jump.

It took Max a moment to find his voice. “Yeah?”

“I’m coming out there. All right?”

“Yeah. All right.” Max tried to pull himself together, to look _normal_. To sit up straight and hide his shortness of breath. He brushed the dirt from his hands and rubbed his face.

Red opened the door and stepped slowly out of the doorway, careful not to catch Max unawares. He looked okay. A little distant, maybe, a little lost in himself. But okay.

“It’s been eleven minutes,” Red said. “You didn’t come back. I was worried.”

“Sorry. I lost track of time. I--” Max felt suddenly self conscious. He looked up at the sky. “I needed to see the stars.”

Silence. Max glanced over at Red. Red was looking up too, his optics distant. He shook his head, looked back down at Max.

“Can I sit with you?”

“Yeah. Of course, Red. Of course you can.” Max tried to disguise his gratefulness, then forced himself to let it show -- who was he trying to hide from, here in the dark with Red?

Red didn’t sit immediately. Max watched him work through the situation, using his own internal logic that Max could only ever half-follow. Red glanced at the door, the hills, the path towards the Titan graveyard. He made a decision and lowered himself down, his back against the closed door, far enough away from Max that they weren’t quite touching. Max could feel the friction of Red’s electromagnetic field against his own, faint but incredibly reassuring. Max was here and now and _safe_ , and so was Red. Max shuddered with relief, felt ashamed that Red might notice. He folded his knees up close and wrapped his arms around them to hold himself still.

“Thank you for waking me up,” Red said. No shame in his voice at all. Not much of any emotion, really. Max found it oddly reassuring. He wasn’t sure how to answer, so he just sat there, feeling awkward, looking up at the stars while Red looked out into the hills and valleys of the dying hotspot. Max stole a glance at him; Red was coming to some other decision. Max could see it on his face. He looked back up at the sky and let Red work it through.

Red held up his left hand, slowly, making sure that Max could see it.

Max usually resented that kind of treatment. He was a mech, frag it, a _normal mech_ , not some kind of bomb waiting to be set off. He didn’t want to be treated like glass that might break, like a dormant but potentially dangerous weapon, like--

But no. From Red, it felt different. Red was simply trying to be kind. He was treating Max the way _he_ would appreciate being treated.

Slowly, Red reached out and placed his hand on Max’s shoulder. It was warm and steady and gentle. Much smaller than Max’s hand.

Max sat there, tense, waiting for Red to somehow escalate the gesture. But Red didn’t. He just left his hand there, showing no signs of wanting anything more. He scrutinized Max’s face for a long moment, then turned back towards the hills.

His hand was warm and stable and alive. Here and now. Unfamiliar, but welcome.

Max’s body slowly uncoiled itself. He leaned back against the wall, Red’s touch a single warm point of contact in the cold night.

Red watched the hotspot gleam. Max exhaled and looked up at the stars.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Galena for her help on this one. And thanks for reading!


End file.
